999
by wolfdanced
Summary: Ten Espada. Ten bits of paper. Nine-hundred and ninety-nine possibilities! Lately Aizen has been suffering from multiple personality disorder, is far too fond of his own illusions, and that's only to begin with... AU, weird. Do not take seriously.
1. The Beginning

**999 Chapter One: The Beginning**

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Cracky goodness to come soon, so stay seated. I welcome any comments and suggestion you have, so don't be shy.

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It was one of those days. A meeting.

The faux God leaned forwards, clenched fist squared against his chin in boredom.

None of the Espada had shown up.

"Who are ya waitin' for, Aizen-Taichou?"

Curiosity lead his gaze to the corner of the room, to shadow, even though the voice was familiar.

Of course.... he had no Espada. They were gone. Just as worthless in absence as they had been in presence.

"Ya guinea pigs are dead."

What wonderful coincidence Gin had managed to echo his thoughts.

Now, it was just him and the silver-haired man.

Or was it?

Although the words had rang flawlessly from the corner, it was unusual for the speaker to remain so distant.

Today was different. Even though he could count the changes on a single hand, the small total had a massive effect. Silence was the most notable one; a peace that extended beyond simply no sound.

_Stop it._

Sousuke had a tendency to think at the worst times, and that was why it fell on deaf ears.

Tonight, and as always, the ex-Shinigami was going to listen only to himself.

_You were never this arrogant._

Niceness was only a passing convenience displayed to warm the hearts of others. It did not take much to coax smiles from lips. It was never genuine, and yet so easy to convince others with gentle deception.

Sousuke was a fool for thinking otherwise; a taint of his perfection.

The lamb to his wolf. And if exploited, it could be his downfall. But like humanity, Sousuke was predictable...

He wanted to see truth where there was none.

He wanted to believe.

Sighing, the male aligned his mind back to reality and considered leaving the room. Even the master of illusions got sick of mind games, especially when he could predict every move.

Lowering Kyouka Suigetsu, the slide of metal broke the quiet just as footsteps announced a new arrival.

"Kaname," He greeted as the door closed, pushing against his zanpakuto's hilt to secure it in place.

The respectful subordinate bowed deeply, maintaining position even as his superior looked away.

More noise from the corridor warned they would not be alone for long, and so the God adjusted himself accordingly. There was no praise in looking jaded – it would give the others ideas of weakness.

But something was bothering him. Tousen had yet to take his customary station in-front the projector.

"Kaname?" The same word, but this time with completely new meaning. It was a question, and the subject would be wise to respond promptly.

The empty shadows where he had previously imagined Gin swallowed most of the room, an ominous shade falling across Tousen's face.

No answer.

And it was a mistake; one more strike to add to the tally. The first for being late, the second for not answering swiftly.

Why did so many feel the need to slack that night?

Perhaps it was a call for discipline. A decaying code of honour which left irritated creases forming around his mouth, though the expression was wasted. The one it was meant for could not even witness it.

"I was worried."

Aizen immediately tutted at the finishing word, eyes rolling to scrutinize the still figure.

Worried? One had to care to worry.

"You are water Kaname," A pond which depths had been revealed in that little ripple. What dangerous boundaries the male had chosen to tread upon. "-I can see the moon."

As if understanding, the scolded inferior gave a quick nod before finally moving towards his usual standing place.

Where he should have been minutes ago.

Exactly as the conversation came to a close the entrance opened and waves of underlings poured in like the water referred to only moments before.

Their leader greeted them with his usual composure, hands clasped together and acting as a perch to his inclined head.

Seats were tossed and scraped over the floor in the usual manner that preluded meetings as everyone became comfortable, but this time wasn't going to include the same procedure. No... they were in for a surprise.

Said surprise lay within ten white sheets, some already being investigated by the more curious of the arrancar. But after a few seconds of scanning the paper, realisation brought with it the inevitable chorus of groans and sighs, no to mention some poor attempts at disguising curses.

Who would be the first to voice their obvious disagreement? It was enough to make anyone giddy with anticipation.

The door opened again, but instead of acting as a welcome distraction, the noises simply grew in tone and pitch; the person who had just entered was only going to celebrate the misfortune.

Seemingly preoccupied with his own sheet, Aizen looked up as a fresh cup of steaming hot tea was pushed into his notice.

The real Gin was responsible and his ever-smiling face showed some teeth in a grin as thanks was whispered for the thought.

Watching the tall male stand to one side, the leader grasped the warm cup with a smile of his own.

Time to get started.

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_Disclaimer: Kubo Tite has my utmost respect for creating the wonderful fandom of Bleach, and with this disclaimer I would like to acknowledge the fact I own not one thing about it (except this fic). _


	2. Rumours Have It

**999 Chapter Two: Rumours Have It  
**

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The gears will turn, the currents will flow... the mysteries will be known.

* * *

Kurosaki Ichigo opened his eyes to a sight he never thought he would be screwed enough to see. How wrong he was because right there, standing by the end of his bed in a messy circle, was a nightmare realised.

The Espada. All of them! Every single one!

Words failed him, his breath faltered and his heart raced. He had to act – now – but he couldn't even move.

Sighing, the teenager slowly closed his eyes, and upon opening them again saw not ten but one. A single man, brow furrowed and eyes serious. It almost seemed like his father was concerned.

How wrong he was again.

_Smack! _Right in the chops!

Ichigo sprawled over the sheets, once more unconscious. The vision had just been a dream, but this time blissful, ignorant sleep did not await him...

* * *

Back in Las Noches, Hueco Mundo, all had fallen into silence. Every head was pointed towards a particular person, every gaze silently foaming... or just confused.

The smile gone, Aizen returned his attention to his gift. The cup lifted with ease in his grasp, the rim misted with gently rising steam. Just as gently did he drink from it, gulps gradual as the taste was savoured. One. Two. The fresh tea was just what he had needed.

No one had dared speak yet, and frankly it was disappointing. Where was their spirit? Or was that too high an expectation? Interestingly, some of the more outspoken Espada did little other than try him with a pout; it only looked endearing as opposed to displeasing, however. Trying to annoy Aizen was such an adorable waste of effort.

"If you would, Kaname."

There was a click and rustle as Tousen obediently switched the projector on. The screen lit up with an image of a bedroom, familiar to none except perhaps the one who had ordered it to be shown.

Aizen drew Kyouka Suigetsu unnoticed from its resting place as the Espada's attention switched to the displayed picture.

As any faithful subordinate would, the army looked to their leader for guidance. Directions, instructions, orders... there were none. They were left to their own devices, deprived, only on occasion to be brought together in a meeting that was always the same.

Some of them had started rumours that Gin was drugging Aizen's tea, some said it was actually Tousen's work and others had gone so far as to suggest Wonderweiss responsible. But the truth? No one knew.

"As you can see, the projector shows-"

"-Kurosaki!"

Silence. The entire room shook with unpleasant tension, and the culprit was fixed with an arresting look as a deliberately loud _thunk _announced the tea cup's release.

How typical for Grimmjow to be the first to notice the orange-haired boy. After all, the two shared something of a rivalry, did they not? It was no secret, but when he insisted on putting that rivalry above Aizen's priorities it was bothersome.

"Correct, Grimmjow."

The blue-haired arrancar thrust his head back with an arrogant grin, arms folding behind his head as he rocked back and forth in his seat.

If only it were actual praise.

Whether he knew it or not, the Sexta Espada wasn't going to escape that one easily. There had been too many times before this where he had shown a lack of vital respect, and those nine lives of his were running out.

"Recently," A slow look around the gathering told them all to pay close heed – or else. "-My tea has lacked its usual flavour."

All around the room eyes filled with disbelief. Or in the case of Nnoitra's eye, rolled.

Tousen shifted in uncomfortable sympathy for Gin where he noticed Aizen's disturbingly blank stare rested. Gin valiantly stood still, his usual smiling self, at complete ease.

"Aizen-sama?" A deep voice asked quietly, unsure if allowed. A slow nod from the one in question granted Zommari permission to continue. "What about the paper?"

_You have to answer._

So Sousuke felt pity for the hollows? Aizen, for once, could see some credit there. If answers would keep them happy and complacent, then they would get some. Just a select few, just enough to whet their taste. Because they were all dogs in this kennel. Dogs that would follow his command.

Without another thought to it, the God raised from his high-backed chair and walked briskly over to the Séptima Espada's side. Ignoring the wary glance he received for his trouble, a hand was placed on the male's shoulder.

"Look," He whispered, pointing to the white. "-Look closely. Deeply. Let the white submerge you."

Zommari swallowed loudly and prepared to confess. "I see nothing."

"Exactly."

Apparently, Grimmjow couldn't take it any more. Sniggering, he kicked at the table in his amusement and the impact over-balanced the steaming cup, sending it hurtling towards the ground.

_Smash!_

"Oh dear. Now you've done it," Szayel mocked through his own giggles, thoroughly enjoying how things were working out. So far, so good. It was a dramatic improvement from last time, the time before that and so on, but they were all blinded by the little accident – the real entertainment was with the screen and the shinigami substitute.

Surely enough, the screen was no longer a stationary display. Ichigo appeared to be thrashing around violently on his bed, blankets thrown everywhere.

"Tch," Nnoitra hissed, following Szayel's gaze. "I didn't come here to watch some fucked-up tea party or a kid having a seizure."

"Exactly," Aizen repeated as he returned to his place, drawing all eyes back to himself. "You didn't."

"So why are we here?" Yammy impatiently piped up, hiding a huge yawn behind his equally large hand.

"I have a mission for you."

* * *

For some reason the first thing he felt that morning wasn't the usual burn of sunlight on his face. It was a ghastly coldness unexplainable even by the fact his blankets were strewn over the floor.

_It looks like a tip. _Ichigo thought with a sigh, sitting upright and rubbing at his strangely sore face. _Why the heck...?_ It took a few minutes before the memory came back to him – of being socked in the face by Isshin, that bastard. How could he call himself a dad?

Shivering, he jumped out of his bed and started to pick the blankets up. Before he could finish the job, there was the sound of feet running on the stairs and then suddenly the door burst open...

...Or tried to.

Ichigo had leapt in-front, thrown his weight against it and crossed his arms. Why the hell did everyone think they could just come in without knocking?

"Ow! Ow! Owwie!" Isshin yelled from outside the room, presumably rolling around on the floor by now and clutching his face. Bastard.

* * *

The meeting was over and with a rush of activity everyone began to hurry out of the room, save for four.

Tousen was busy packing away the projector, Aizen busy picking up the pieces of paper and Gin was happily watching Grimmjow tidy up the smashed cup.

The Espada had groaned at the shit task he was asked to do – no, more like ordered. Sure, what the hell, it was just a cup. But the fuck? Why had Aizen suddenly become obsessed with tea? Wasn't global domination his goal? So why piss around with tea? He bet the next time he caught ear of the latest gossip his name would have replaced Wonderweiss'.

"Good boy," Aizen cooed somewhat sarcastically (it was better than the alternative) as he finished stacking the sheets into a neat pile. Grimmjow just gritted his teeth and continued to scrub at the stain.

When the door shut again for the countless time that day, it meant Tousen had also finished and decided to leave, which only meant three were left.

_Four._

Oh, so Sousuke couldn't acknowledge that he was a lie. It used to be sweet, but now? It was getting annoying. Just like Grimmjow's constant challenges. It seemed the wannabes could not accept what they were these days.

"Soo," Gin said, vying for Aizen's attention. He got what he wanted. "-Why are you so interested in that creepy kid?"

Aizen smiled wickedly. This was not for Grimmjow's ears.

"That is all for now, Grimmjow. You may leave."

Getting the impression he had just been kicked out in favour of the fox-git, the Espada shrugged and left his work, striding out the room. He didn't care, but he didn't like not knowing all the facts, so he hung around the door idly and tried to pick up on their conversation.

"Bye-bye~" Gin stuck his head out the door and bid the arrancar farewell in a sing-song voice, rubbing it in with a bitchy wave. Grimmjow scowled and resumed walking away.

Damn them, he knew they were up to something. But what? What was Aizen's mission? Would they ever find out?

_I know it involves you, Kurosaki._

He was going to get to the bottom of this.

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_Disclaimer: Kubo Tite has my utmost respect for creating the wonderful fandom of Bleach, and with this disclaimer I would like to acknowledge the fact I own not one thing about it (except this fic). _


	3. Pins

**999 Chapter Three: Pins  
**

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Pins, pins do you say? Then where are the needles?

* * *

Hours had passed since the meeting.

Grimmjow didn't know how much longer he could wait around. Curiosity was a persistent thing and with nothing better to do... well, heh. He _had_ to investigate.

Setting out down one of Las Noches' many corridors, he was going to check whether or not the meeting room was empty yet, but when he reached halfway the arrancar froze as something unusual came into view.

Slumped against one of the corridor walls was a body – its identity hidden via a paper bag shoved over the head, reiatsu invisible. Blinking, Grimmjow didn't know whether to burst out laughing due to the sheer hilarity of the sight or to get closer and look.

Curiosity got the better of him again.

Figuring stealth was the objective here, he ignored any urge to embrace amusement and started forwards. With one hand on his zanpaukto's hilt, the Espada hastened his advance on the discovery when a sudden presence made him think it could be a mistake. Or more likely, a trap.

_Aizen. _The male thought bitterly, wondering why he was being stalked. Why? There were so many more 'important' things that Aizen could be doing, so why? _I'm not gonna hang around and find out._ Or so was the plan.

With the aid of sonido, Grimmjow made the last stretch and reached the body where he hastily tore the paper bag off... and snorted.

It was 'Ichigo'.

"Is that what you wanted to see?" The deep voice of his pursuer called out from surprisingly close by, making the Espada whirl around to face him. Only a fool would keep their back presented.

"What kind of sick game is this?" Grimmjow retorted, throwing the bag to the floor and stomping on it. To add extra value he was going to spit, but the chance was taken away from him when Aizen closed the distance between them.

They eyed each-other for a moment, lost in expressions so similar – smug, arrogant and self-involved. It could have been like looking in a mirror.

Aizen chuckled at his subject's defiance and nodded towards the body, therefore ending the staring contest.

"Whatever you want it to be."

The Sexta Espada wrinkled his nose, irritated by the lack of information. He didn't know about everyone else, but he sure did get sick of humouring cryptic bullshit.

"I know you're looking for answers," Aizen may as well have broken the world record on intruding personal space boundaries when he stepped forwards, forcing Grimmjow to recoil backwards and sidle along the wall in order to get away. "-I can give them to you."

The Espada was the only one who had shown interest in the mission beyond attending meetings. He was the perfect candidate, the one with the most drive and determination to see it through. Yes, by exploiting the male's own personal goals he could achieve exactly what was required. It was the right opportunity, and now all that remained was to seize it.

Grimmjow kept backing away, unaware of what was going on in Aizen's head, but guessing from his intensifying gaze it couldn't be anything good.

"Grimmjow," Spiritual pressure came crashing down directly after the name was spoken, knocking the breath from the arrancar's lungs and flooring him. The culprit stood over the male's struggling form, smiling darkly. "-Prove your loyalty to me and you will not regret it."

There wasn't a choice of course. If the male refused... well, he _couldn't _refuse. That was the beauty of it.

"Take my hand."

* * *

Sunset in Karakura town was as beautiful as ever. Yet as he walked home from school, alone, Ichigo couldn't help but feel uneasy. He got the strange impression that he shouldn't be here, like fate meant for him to be elsewhere, doing something else.

"Nah... that's stupid," He muttered and kicked an empty can of soda from the pavement, wondering why people littered. Pity he didn't think of the consequences instead.

The can shot out into the road with a noisy clang and tumbled into the distance, but that wasn't all it had done.

_Boom!_

"What the...?"

The street started to shake, cracks formed in the ground and buildings crashed down into heaps of rubble. Ichigo could only stare as a familiar coldness washed over him, helpless. That was when he knew it was a dream.

Sitting up in his bed, the teenager gave a frustrated sigh and glared at Isshin who was once again hovering at the end of his bed. It was just like last time, but today he was ready for the punch.

"No! Not this time!" He shouted, dodging the fist which had been aimed at his jaw. "-The last thing I remember is walking home from school, so how did I get here?"

Isshin frowned and sat down on the floor, scratching his chin in thought. To tell or not to tell?

"I picked you up off the street, kiddo. You fainted."

* * *

Grimmjow had grudgingly taken the offered hand and the air regained its normal status. Wordlessly, the two had made the journey which he had originally intended to take alone. Talk about unexpected changes.

When they got there it turned out to be empty after all.

Silently cursing his run of bad luck, the Espada flinched when he felt a hand on his chest. _What now?_ Aizen had touched the scar there and traced along the singed flesh with a finger, smirking all the while. If it had been anyone else they would be dead by now, but Grimmjow once more had to tolerate the man's caprice.

"Do you mind?" He hissed, glaring at the finger with undisguised distaste.

"Not at all," Chuckling, Aizen left the male be and went over to the table. He sat down on the smooth surface and gestured for the subordinate to join him.

Although Grimmjow saw many reasons why not to, he had no real choice and reluctantly began to walk over.

Despite their confidence in secrecy there was another ear listening in; lingering outside the room and with the completely wrong idea stood Ulquiorra, his wide green eyes peeking through a gap left by the unclosed entrance.

"You are to bring me Kurosaki Ichigo alive and well. No one should know of his disappearance, so keep it quiet. Tasteful. You will depart immediately."

It was all Ulquiorra needed to know.

* * *

Later on that night and Ichigo hadn't bothered to move. Since learning he had been fainting regularly for the past few days, he decided it would be better to rest than anything. So it was a pain when he heard something scratch at his window.

Very tempted to just roll over and ignore it, the teenager lazily turned to look at the glass. There was definitely something there floating in mid-air and pale as a ghost.

When Ichigo realised what – no, _who_ it was, he almost fainted again. What the bloody hell was Ulquiorra himself doing there!? Bursting into shinigami mode, Ichigo dumped all hopes of bed-rest and charged towards the window.

As the crisp air rushed to meet his face there were no signs of the Espada, and he pondered for a moment if it had been another hallucination or dream.

"You are about to be kidnapped, Kurosaki Ichigo."

That familiar voice (thankfully) confirmed his sanity and drew his attention away to a newly-opened garganta that Ulquiorra was already slipping through.

It was confusing – if he really was about to be kidnapped, then why had the arrancar just escaped? Had he been tipped off? No. No way. That was too weird. Enemies never considered each-other beyond the battlefield; something fishy was going on, and he guessed it was connected to his own problems as of recent.

* * *

Grimmjow couldn't believe it when he saw Ichigo was already waiting for him. Arriving had been easy enough; a pathway opened straight away, and it only took him a couple of seconds to work out what that meant.

Someone was on to him. His and Aizen's little 'secret' was busted. _Great, _the Espada thought, fists clenched in anger. He had already failed.

"Insomnia?" He shouted mockingly to the teenager and sauntered casually downwards through the air, trying not to show his mood.

"Give up Grimmjow. I know why you're here."

"Oh really? Tell me then Kurosaki."

But he didn't. The orange-haired boy lurched suddenly as if about to shunpo, but only managed to stagger to one side before collapsing. In that same moment his zanpakuto fell to the ground, useless, lost to its owner's limp body.

The kid had just fainted.

Upon realising this, Grimmjow grinned in triumph and snickered as he made his way over. Oh how badly he wanted to laugh 'till he cried.

"Sweet dreams, shinigami. Sweet dreams."

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_Disclaimer: Kubo Tite has my utmost respect for creating the wonderful fandom of Bleach, and with this disclaimer I would like to acknowledge the fact I own not one thing about it (except this fic). _


	4. Special Delivery

**999 Chapter Four: Special Delivery**

* * *

In your average dose.

* * *

This was it.

After so long –_ too_ long – he could finally open his eyes.

The lids were heavy, stuck together and stung from the light. As one hand moved to shield his face, Ichigo was surprised to find himself seated. But he couldn't stay like this forever, and an all-too familiar question bit at him – _what happened?_

Straining to remember, the teenager hoped to remind himself somehow and decided to take a look around, however bad a choice it could turn out to be.

It was a gradual process, and the more he saw the more achromatic and soulless everything seemed. Even the overly polished floor with its reflective shine could add no value to the desolate, eerily silent atmosphere.

_This..._

His breath slowly withered as a name clicked into memory; this was Las Noches.

Despair wrapped its sickly arms around him, willing panic, but it was pointless. Ichigo felt like he had nothing to give, his eyes glued to the mirror image peering back up at him from the shining tiles.

White garb replaced the usual black, the deathly pale fabric drawing him in deeper than any void, bleeding his soul through its implication. Was he... had he been...? There was no answer. Nothing. Except one word. One sole word that droned mechanically through his distraught thoughts:

Espada.

The last person he had seen and the one with the most to explain was Grimmjow. _When I find him... _The thought trailed off in anger as he moved to stand up, an ache halting the movement. _More like __if__ I find him._ At this rate he wasn't going anywhere – the pain came from his leg and raked its path upwards, finally ending at his temples before repeating all over again. He'd had worse injuries, but the sheer unknown cause behind this one made it more of a concern than it actually was._ I'll deal with it later. Right now I need to focus. _On what? Escape?

The idea died as the dull thud of feet presented reality before the substitute shinigami. He wasn't alone. No, he was very much trapped within the lion's den. A mouse.

Determined not to appear helpless in front of whatever else fate threw his way, Ichigo sprang to his feet, hand reaching for Zangetsu...

Thin air. Where was his zanpakuto?

Too late.

"I warned you, Kurosaki Ichigo."

It was the footsteps, not the words, which echoed menacingly throughout the inner walls of the palace, accusing green eyes fixed directly to his own brown.

Ulquiorra appeared completely disinterested in the task he had been ordered to perform, even as he stood and surveyed the prisoner. Ever since Aizen had revealed his knowledge of the eavesdropping menial task after menial task had become the arrancar's life. It was disgusting knowing what that trash Grimmjow felt like, if one could even call it 'felt'. There was no emotion about Ulquiorra, and those who mistook otherwise were fools.

The boy so relevant to Aizen's interests leaned heavily on one side, and the uneasy action spoke volumes to the observer. He was suffering and in an unstable condition – by no means a threat. So was this necessary or just a test of loyalty?

"What do you want?" Ichigo snarled similarly to a wounded animal, brows furrowed and muscles tensed. The Espada couldn't be here for a good reason, and there was no way he was going to make himself easy game.

Just as the male seemed prepared to give an answer he turned away, leaving before any protest could be voiced.

Slightly dumbfounded, the teenager assumed he was supposed to follow and started to limp awkwardly out of the room and up the corridor. There was no time to relax – he had to find out what the hell was going on and fast.

* * *

In Karakura town...

"Any news yet?"

Isshin already knew the answer.

"None."

What was Urahara good for?

* * *

The door Ulquiorra waited before was wide open but ultimately failed to be inviting. He stood to one side, allowing passage to the teenager who cautiously took the cue.

As he stepped inside an immense presence weighed down on either shoulder and choked the air, but left no suspense as to who was responsible. The culprit immediately made himself known and coaxed the substitute further with a light smirk.

Eyes drawn to the youth's dragging leg, Aizen's expression morphed to something that looked as if it intended to be pity. "How does it feel?"

An opportunity to be smart-ass was passed up as Ichigo chose to take a seat at the long table instead of providing an answer, his chest burning at the thought the traitor knew anything about his injury. It narrowed the speculation of how it came to exist considerably, however.

"That bad?"

The taunt bristled under his skin and willed his gaze to glower challengingly at the smug male. This was when he realized differences – long waves of hair and piercing, hollow-like eyes.. something had happened. Something had changed.

The empty feeling in the stare almost seemed to agree with him, their exchange ending as Ichigo looked away uncomfortably. He hated not knowing anything and feeling like he had just been born yesterday. More useless than a newborn, but with no excuse as he wasn't nearly as fragile. Though perhaps he was underestimating his opponent who had just dismissed the statuesque subordinate.

With a dip of the head, Ulquiorra left the two and disappeared from view. Ichigo couldn't help but sigh, though he kept his brave face on.

"Your answer."

There was nothing he could say that his posture hadn't given away already. Pain was the last thing on the substitute's mind, and whilst it might be important somehow, the facts were missing. Why ask?

Suddenly the distance closed and Ichigo jerked away from the male who persisted on encroaching upon everyone's personal space. What was his issue?

"Haven't you noticed?"

Ichigo rolled his eyes. He presumed the question was supposed to make him feel inferior and wonder what it could possibly mean.

"I brand all my pets," Where was this going? As an idea began to dawn on him, the substitute's eyes fell to his leg. The white material had small tears lining its surface, and showing through the gaps was... was... _ink_. It didn't take much thought to figure out what that meant. "-They don't like collars."

The insulting revelation was taken too far as the whisper blew against his ear, and unable to withstand any more, Ichigo lashed out. His fist was caught by the traitor who considered it for a moment before letting go, amusement flickering across those arrogant features.

This was wrong, and not only that. It was too random. Unpredictable! What if Soul Society found out? What would they think? What about his friends? His family? What if they saw their hero reduced to this?

_It's time to wake up now._ It had to be a dream.

As confusion hazed over the youth's eyes, Aizen took a step back to observe with his usual indifference. The words had the intended result, of course, and that was to bring the male to his subconscious without lifting a finger. Speech-craft. It was an art, and an art that one would do well to learn by heart.

"Heya Creepy~"

The greeting completely disregarded the faux God's existence and instead chose to acknowledge the barely-mentally-present prisoner.

Deciding to take the wake up call, Ichigo blinked and stared at the newcomer who was holding a tray. It was Ichimaru, who looked especially morbid that day, his teeth flashing in a carnivorous smile as his gaze drifted to the other man.

What was the event? Again Ichigo felt like he was missing something.

"Way to kick a dog when it's down, Aizen. He's hurtin'."

There was something else aside from conceit visible on the male's face as he was addressed, but the substitute was too concerned with his own situation to pay it any heed. _Maybe I can take this chance to escape._ Though there was the problem of where he would go. This was their domain and they would find him far quicker than he could get away.

"Tea."

Gin answered the order by flinging the empty tray at his supposed comrade, tweeting in glee as it smacked off the male's face.

The ex-shinigami's expression as the object clattered to the floor was nothing other than murderous. The tension in the air rose to staggering levels, and Ichigo forced himself to dive wildly at the still-open door in hopes of slipping outside...

_Smack!_

Seeing stars, Ichigo realised his attempt had failed when he blearily looked up to find he was crammed against Yammy's barrel of a chest. The grin that showed the Espada's delight was somehow wider than his girth and definitely more hideous.

"Oh? Where're you headed?"

Before he could recover, a huge fist grasped the substitute's collar and hoisted him into the air like a trophy – or an axe swooping in for the final blow. Either way he knew he was screwed. The collision itself didn't compare to the meaty fingers now compressed around his gasping throat, and his own hands were useless in their attempts to dislodge the grip which was wearing the bonds to life thin.

The Espada's grin curled upwards at the ends in twisted amusement due to the tickling sensation the prisoner's weak struggles caused. The laughable effort only held his attention for so long, and allowing the male to drop to the ground, Yammy turned to investigate the sudden eruption of noise.

Chairs, paperwork, equipment and other such technology lay in ruins around the meeting room, the mess spiced up by an occasional stain. "Party's already started," He sneered at the idea, eyes glancing back to the weakling sprawled on the floor. "-Where's your invite?"

Ichigo barely lifted his head; it was better to play this game safe.

Yammy snorted before moving forwards. "What's wrong, huh?" Again the brat was seized and lifted up, but this time to be scrutinized. "-Like being tossed around?" The way the kid's weight centred in a particular leg gave him enough reason to take a closer look, and was it revealing. There was a word scrawled into the skin: 'tea'. Non-caring whether this was only part of a phrase, the Espada gave another snort. "Guess you got lucky." It happened to be the password decided by their almighty leader and it was clearly no consequence the kid happened to have it tattooed on his leg. After all, everything seemed to be about Kurosaki lately.

"Get outta my way."

Their (one-sided) conversation was interrupted as another Espada rudely shoved past the two and managed to dislodge Ichigo in the process – at which he was grateful. Spying a quick glance, he noticed curly boots and stick-thin legs walk past and into the chaotic scenery.

"The hell? The bigwigs been going at it?" Nnoitra commented, not bothering to hide his excitement as he started to pace around, presumably looking for the fight which had caused this amount of destruction.

Yammy only stifled a yawn and kicked Ichigo from his path as he lumbered off into Las Noches' depths. There was something temporary about the Espada's exit and so Ichigo took the opportunity in full, apprehensively rising to his feet and wondering if he could leave. _It might be my only chance._ There were more coming this way – the evidence loud voices, stamping feet and... laughter.

It was him.

Grimmjow burst appropriately into view at that exact moment, determined not to miss the action and decidedly miffed at the sight of Nnoitra already standing there, not to mention...

"Grimmjow!"

Kurosaki just couldn't keep it to himself could he? Swallowing the intense urge to cuss the bastard out, the arrancar settled for mediocrity and instead held out his middle finger as he walked past the punk. Not today. Not now. Orders were f-ing orders after all.

But the dipshit wouldn't let it pass.

"Grimmjow!"

He could hear Nnoitra sniggering in the background. _Just you wait._

"Refreshments." Everyone was surprised to hear something new and they all stared as Zommari entered pushing a trolley covered with cups of...

"Tea anyone?"

What the hell was it with that stuff? Everyone under the moon had gone batshit about it, but Grimmjow refused. No the last circulation the rumours concerning the vile stuff had changed dramatically, and for the worst. No longer did Tousen, Gin or Wonderweiss have any say in them – no, it was all about Grimmjow and his mysterious 'alone time' with Aizen. To put it very mildly, he would _love _to have a nice little chat with the one responsible.

Ichigo ignored the distraction and staggered straight towards his target, only managing to get halfway before something ripped through the tendons in his calf. Blood spread across the pristine white of his clothes and soiled the colour a muddy rouge, the liquid forming a pool at his feet which rippled from the vibrations of an approacher.

"Wonderful."

Somehow not as pathetic a sight as Ichigo, the newly-arrived but noticeably ruffled Aizen bent beside the kneeling youth and offered him a bloody hand. "Come. Let us clean up."

It was suddenly as if this was a different man, an imposter lurking behind eyes that suggested monstrosity but only delivered kindness. No... poison. That was all it was.

"Aizen-sama!"

There was a rush of breeze as Zommari abandoned his task in favour of joining his God's side, both Nnoitra and Grimmjow scowling at the action that could be likened to a dog licking at its master's heels.

"Zommari."

The tone used to deliver the name was devoid of everything but simplicity. Patronizing, even. It did its job and Zommari obediently returned to his work.

Ichigo, warily eyeing Aizen's simpering smile and outstretched palm, mentally kicked himself for letting his overwhelming desire to discover the truth override his chance to leave the room. Look where he had ended up; nowhere with a ticket booked straight to hell.

* * *

_Disclaimer: Kubo Tite has my utmost respect for creating the wonderful fandom of Bleach, and with this disclaimer I would like to acknowledge the fact I own not one thing about it (except this fic). _


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